


A Letter to a Friend

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Hetalia Rare Pair Week 2020 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Relationships: Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia Rare Pair Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796935
Kudos: 23





	A Letter to a Friend

The methodical sound of the steam engine echoed across the open snowy plain. The train was moving slowly from Moscow to Saint Petersburg, a single black line moving across the white landscape.

Russia was sitting alone in a cabin with a piece of paper sitting in front of him, and a pen in hand. But, he had yet to write a single word. The paper was sitting in front of him frustratingly blank.

He wished it was silent for the sake of his focus. He could hear the sound of the royal family talking in the adjoining cabin, and the sound of the train engine. One was uneven chatter and the other was a rhythmic turning. The combination of the two was a unique kind of unpleasant background noise. It was hard to gather his words to write to someone he was very fond of with the constant low level droning of sound in the background.

This new form of transportation was still taking some getting used to, and he wasn’t sure that this noise would ever be better than the sound of diligent horses pulling a carriage. This was the way of the future, so his tsar said.

He had grand plans to start building one across the length of the country, though Russia doubted that would ever happen. He put the thoughts of encroaching modernization aside.

He had to focus and put pen to paper, because his ally was waiting to hear from him. Prussia had sent a letter already that politely inquired about his health and political state and invited him to a private meeting in Berlin.

He wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a political or private meeting. Prussia had been casual enough in his tone that it was hard to tell. Russia had read through it several times and tried to guess. But there was a coarse bluntness to Prussia’s tone that was hard to read. He wrote like a soldier giving a report.

He pushed the thought aside and took a moment to gather himself and then started writing. He wrote, in careful script, “My dearest Gil.”

Then, he paused. Would that be too casual to address a man that he only knew on a political level? Prussia had started his letter with “My dear Vanya,” which had seemed casual enough. Russia would not pretend that the use of the diminutive hadn’t made his heart skip a beat. The idea that Prussia would casually say his name like they were close friends was exciting.

He wanted to think that all the years of having an alliance that they were close enough to speak to each other casually. But, he could not be certain, and the thought of offending a friend and ally was too mortifying.

He crumpled up the paper and started again on a new sheet. He was going to be polite like a politician. It would be better if Prussia thought he was being too formal than to make the mistake of being too forward.

He would welcome a chance for something more than just an alliance, but it felt like he was flattering himself to think it was possible.

He shook himself out of his thoughts enough to realize that he had been holding his pen over the paper without moving long enough that a drop of ink had gathered on the tip and dropped onto the paper. It had left an ugly black dot right in the middle of the page.

He let out a long sigh, and crumpled that piece of paper as well. He knew he should have been more mindful and not waste paper, but the anxiety about writing a good letter was hard to get past.

He then capped the pen and put it down so that he would not do the same to another piece of paper. He turned his gaze out the window instead, and watched the snow covered countryside roll past.

It was disorienting to watch trees and the occasional person roll by faster than they would have otherwise. There was a family with a cart pulled by a rather thin looking horse. He could guess that they were former serfs, yet another sign of the changing world.

He thought about what to say to Prussia, and how to express himself. He wanted to say so much, but he dared not, at least not in a letter. Perhaps he could take this chance to meet in person and express his own ardent desire to be friends and more.Then he could get an honest answer face to face, which would be easier than through a letter.

They had been doing this same dance since the Congress of Vienna and he was growing tired of pretending that he didn’t have other interests in Prussia other than friendship. It was his own fault for being so complacent in their relationship and waiting for Prussia to see the intentions behind his eyes.

He resolved to make his letter friendly, but to the point. He would accept the invitation, would go to Berlin, and would express himself for once.

Then, with new motivation he uncapped the pen and put it to paper. He wrote decisively, “My dearest Gilbert, I am pleased to hear from you. It has been too long since we last saw each other.”

He took a moment to pause and think about what he wanted to say next. He was sincere when he said that it had been too long. It felt childish, but he had gotten used to their closeness in the Holy Alliance, and he did not like that Prussia was starting to turn his attention to the German Confederation.

In their earlier meetings it had been easy to ignore Austria’s presence, and pretend it was just the two of them. He felt a degree of jealousy that he no longer got the same time that he could before. Matters of the German states were taking up more and more of Prussia’s time. In the letter it would likely seem like a pleasantry, but he meant it wholeheartedly. He liked the time that they spent together and did not want it to be as sparse as it was.

He continued to write, “I have been hoping for a chance to talk to you without Austria, so I am more than happy to accept your invitation. I am sure that climate will be better than anything Roderich can provide. He has been trying to impinge on my claims in the Balkans, and I may have to chastise him for it soon.”

He paused for a moment and drew in a breath. He had started to make the letter political without thinking enough about it. Anyone who received this letter would think that they were going to have a political conversation instead of a personal one.

It was easy to retreat to this comfortable distance when he felt anxious. He knew politics well, what was said and what was planned in back rooms. But, personal intimate feelings were harder, and certainly much less familiar.

He sighed to himself and tried to change the tone as he continued, “I am glad to visit you whenever you like, whether there is a crisis or not. I have complete trust in you. I will arrange to be in Berlin at the end of the month. With fondest regards, Vanya”

He dotted the last period with a letter with a sense of accomplishment. He had managed to put down his thoughts in a way that was at least coherent enough. He could say more in person, and he was determined to do so.

Then, an idea struck him. He scrawled under his signature, “p.s. I am going to send you a gift before my visit. I hope you enjoy it.”

Then he took another piece of paper and wrote a reminder of the gift he wanted to send, so that he would not forget. He could hand the note to a servant the moment he arrived in St. Petersburg, and they would make sure that it was carried out exactly as he wanted.

Then he folded the letter and put it aside.

He turned his eyes back to the window and imagined how this meeting would play out. In his mind’s eye he could see it clearly. He would confess his feelings, and Prussia would come to his waiting arms, because they had both been waiting so long for this moment.

It was just a dream, and he knew it. But soon enough he would have a chance to act on it, just as soon as the letter was sent.


End file.
